


in California —with my toes in the sand

by pvrcq



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Beach Trip, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Walks On The Beach, brief mention of a panic attack!!!, i love them, just bois being soft, no beta we die like men, pianist andrew minyard, yes i will go down with this headcannon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:13:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26715031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pvrcq/pseuds/pvrcq
Summary: Of course they had bad days, both of them, but that meant there were days which were good too, where he could feel flickers of warmth, of humanity, and that was more of a luxury than he had ever thought possible for him to have.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 11
Kudos: 36





	in California —with my toes in the sand

**Author's Note:**

> smol tw! theres an extremely brief mention of panic attack but it isnt very graphic (or big) but just warning you!! also this may read a bit odd bc its my first time writing anything similar to this, i wanted to step out of my comfort zone so please bear with me!!

Neil could feel the spray of the salt, the water in the air, wind rushing through auburn locks, senses tingling, overloading. He tried to focus on the Foxes in the distance, their banter easily flowing with soft smiles and bursts of laughter, and Andrew beside him, shoulders grazing ever so slightly every few seconds. 

It worked for a while, thinking of his found family, but he hadn’t slept well last night. He could hear the screams, the smoke, the ash, the flames, the blood. 

_Run. Run. Run._

His breathing was growing more erratic by the second, muscles tensing, itching with the need to move, do something, anything, and _get the fuck out._

He started, feeling a whisper of a touch on his back, but melted as soon as he realised it was just Andrew. Turning back, he tried— and failed miserably to smile and assure him that he was okay, his face twisting into something closer to a grimace. 

Andrew rolled his eyes, clearly stating that he saw through Neil’s half baked assurance that he would be fine, lifting his pinkie in question.

Neil nodded. “Yes.” Their pinkies linked together, and although he was still itching with the need to run, he could feel something in him melt, looking at Andrew who was guiding them back to the country house, almost unconsciously swinging their arms together. 

* * *

“Yes or no?” Neil looked at the short, grumpy, blonde, _extremely short_ man in front of him, who was currently staring at Neil with his arms crossed. Neil didn’t understand what exactly Andrew meant, for they were both currently in the common area, anyone could walk right in. But he trusted Andrew to know what he was doing. “It's always a yes with you.” 

* * *

“Shut up.” Stupid junkie. He knew he should've asked Neil more when he said that he was fine coming on this trip. 

They tended to stay away from the topic of Neil’s mother, _and_ Cass. It was an unspoken rule between them, neither knew how they felt about their mothers, or _foster_ mothers respectively. 

Andrew still hated Neil’s mother more than should be humanly possible though, _fucking bitch, haunting him even from beyond the grave—_ ahem, anyways. 

He knew Neil had bad memories at the beach, in California. He knew this was where she died, where Neil first became completely alone for the first time in his life.

Neil had done more for Andrew than _anyone_ had, if someone bothered to try in the first place. It had been hard, it _was_ hard, but they were both trying, and that was more than Andrew could've ever asked for, _hoped_ for. 

He would never forget what had happened to him, he knew that wasn’t possible, but the more new memories he got, the memories _they made,_ the more comfort Neil’s touch became, rather than a threat.

Of course they had bad days, both of them, but that meant there were days which were good too, where he could feel flickers of warmth, of _humanity_ , and that was more of a luxury than he had ever thought possible for him to have.

He didn’t talk about his— talent? Whatever. It was no one's business, it would’ve just been one more thing that they would hurt him for, why give them more ammo? 

Besides, he hadn’t sat near one in _years_ , what was to say he could even play anymore? 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

What did he know? Neil didn’t associate bad memories with the piano, never had. It was too elegant an instrument for the kind of places he’d stayed in, and his _father_ was too uncultured to appreciate the lilting melodies. 

Andrew had always been alone. This was a simple fact of the universe, nothing more, nothing less. 

No constants in his life, and if there _was_ one, it was never good. But what had remained stable? Music. 

He had first discovered the instrument when he went to Cass. When he found out it had been a gift, and no one actually played, he had strangely felt— disappointed? Back when he’d still been childish enough to have _expectations_ , not knowing that in the end they always leave you, even though he’d already been through it.

Again, and again, and again.

But then he had found sheets kept on it, and Cass had been delighted when he said he wanted to play. Couldn’t protect him against her own son of course, but then again, why would she? He had _begged_ her to not tell Drake— it was hard, but she finally relented. She got him an instructor, and that was that. 

He learnt all the classics, but when had Andrew been one to follow rules? 

Of course, the instructor finally gave up on him. Cass was disappointed, but what else was new? 

But soon after the instructor left, the piano became his only solace in the fucking prison that was home— _foster_ home, because of course nothing could ever be _truly_ his, and what _was_ got taken away. Every. Fucking. Time. 

Not that he cared of course, he was far beyond the point of thinking anyone could ever be selfless in this hellhole they called the world. Besides, pity was for the naive, and _stupid_ was one thing Andrew had never been. 

Classical training had taught him the basics of course, scales, all the famous composers, yada yada. Yet it wasn’t until the instructor left that Andrew felt truly free. 

Improv hadn’t been something he had been taught, it was only ever briefly brushed upon, so he took it upon himself to practice. Every single day when the house was empty, he would sit there and play for hours and hours, until slowly it was nothing but second nature to it.

He could do this. 

Not Neil making him reveal another one of his most intimate parts of himself which he’d never shown or even thought about in the presence of another living entity, nope. 

* * *

  
  


Neil watched as Andrew stroked his armbands once, before going on the piano in one fluid motion.

Ice blue orbs widened in surprise, even as he struggled to stay calm. Andrew could play? 

Lithe, limber arms grazed the black and white keys, and before he knew, lilting melodies filled the room bathed in fiery reds and soft purples of the sunset. 

Pale fingers travelled across keys, music cresting and falling, one second silken and enticing, the next moment fast and sure. 

Shimmering hair reflected the setting sun, barely flushed face, and fair bits of skin poking through the black of his armbands, as he kept playing. 

He let the rich sound of the keys fill up the room, closing his eyes.   
  


Breathe in. And out. 

* * *

Opened his eyes to hazel ones staring back at him, thousands of emotions words can’t place shimmering in pools of gold— it felt a little like coming home. 

Maybe they’d never be truly okay, but broken together, right?

At that moment, he thought he knew what love feels like.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> aaa thank u sm for reading, feel free to drop down your opinions/criticism you might have, also pianist andrew gives me life. sigh i love them sm.
> 
> in case you wanna follow me, my instagram is @ethqrval (i do have a lot of andreil there!)
> 
> mwah ily, i hope you have an amazing day or night wherever you are <33
> 
> (title is from Sweater Weather by the Neighbourhood —bi AND andreil national anthem)


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